Disclaimer: Harry Potter is obviously not mine, because if it was, I'd be getting a pretty little penny's worth right about now.
My Story, Our Story, and Their Story as Told by
Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ginny Weasley
by Dreamer Ginny in the Clouds
I didn't get this diary for me since the last time I kept a diary for me didn't turn out so well. You see, I kind of got possessed by a mass murderer in the wizarding world who was using me for my magic and was after my older brother's best mate, but that's a different story. And more importantly, that's my story.
If anyone takes anything at all out of this journal, let it be this: It wasn't my story—oh no! It was their story. I got involved in their story, yes, but that still hasn't made it mine. So here's the fun part, I get to tell you their whole story right here and now and all you have to do is sit back relax, and read.
Yours, Ginny
Chapter One: Best Friends
"Yesterday brought the beginning, tomorrow brings the end, and somewhere in the middle we became the best of friends. " ~Author Unknown
September 12th
I met Harry Potter when I was just ten years old and he eleven. Sure, I knew all his stories by heart, and I could tell just about anyone nearly every article I'd read about him in The Daily Prophet, but even I, little old Ginny Weasley, was totally unprepared to meet him in person. I had stopped breathing when I realized it was the Harry James Potter in the flesh, and had completely forgotten about my temper tantrum of not being able to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that year, if only to mutter a good luck before he plummeted through the brick wall leading to platform 9¾.
Many people had said that he was only a legend, even if no one saw You-Know-Who since that night, so I didn't think I'd ever see him around, either. They said that he'd been Avdad by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and used up all his magic, so he'd just gone and died. To actually prove them wrong and see him for real… It was like a dream!
It wouldn't be until Christmas that I saw him next, but that didn't stop me from telling my story to everyone from Mr. Diggory to Luna Lovegood, which wasn't much, considering that I lived within a few miles of both, but I didn't get to see very many people besides Mom and Dad in a day. However, they were enough to please me and my talkativeness.
He was raised by a terrible family, Ron, my older brother, told us in his letters home, they were his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon who only cared about spoiling his whale of a cousin Dudley Dursley. He'd been forced to do all the chores and all the cooking and be a general slave to anyone and, sometimes, they hit him. Ronald even mentioned that he lived with seldom a scrap of food and in a cupboard under the stairs, where his whale cousin could stop up and down above him and make bits of sawdust fly in his face and make him have terrible coughing fits. It was terrible, and when I'd learned this, I suddenly hadn't been surprised that he was so scrawny when I'd seen him and his skin so pale. I imagined a poor little boy eating only half of a peanut butter sandwich in the corner of his miserable room under the stairs as his Aunt and Uncle banged on the door and yelled for him, tears staining his beautiful and glossy emerald green eyes.
Now Harry is sixteen years old and I fifteen. He's a year ahead of me just like back then, but that didn't stop me from wondering about him. Ron, although coming back with numerous stories about him during his first year, had never become the inseparable sort of friends with him. He complained that although he got along with all of the guys, it was almost like he wasn't totally interested in what one would call a "best friend". I'd always thought that Ron really was like his best friend, since from what I saw of him during Christmas and that summer before my first year at Hogwarts. Harry had treated Ron and my older brothers like his friend, and me like his little sister. I knew I liked him some, but I could live with not having a relationship with him on a romantic level at the time if he would at least treat me like a sister.
I had especially been looking forward for that first day of school at Hogwarts when I was eleven because then I knew that Harry Potter, my friend who acted more like my big brother than the brothers I currently had, would be there. Sadly, I'd come to some unpleasant news that day I boarded the Hogwarts Express. It turned out that Harry had transferred to a school somewhere in Bulgaria because that's where his parent's friend, Remus, had decided to move to after he'd taken Harry away from the Dursleys with the help of a secret organization I would later become familiar with (and secretly join) know as The Order of the Phoenix.
"Now I'm heels over head,
I'm hangin' upside down,
Thinking how you left me for dead,
California bound." ~Heels over Head (Boys Like Girls)
I haven't seen him since. But I've been making friends and becoming myself ever since. In fact, my best friend is Hermione Granger, no matter how much of a dork she may be. We met on the train that year I first came to Hogwarts. Ron had never said anything about her and I'd found out that it was because she was a new student at Hogwarts who'd attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for her first year. She was muggleborn and her Father had decided to move his dental practice to London, which meant that her whole family would move back along with the practice and that she'd than have to go to Hogwarts for the rest of her magical schooling.
I have to confess that I don't think I would have talked to her much if it were not for the fact that I couldn't find Luna Lovegood, my childhood friend, and that Ron had abandoned me for some Dean Thomas fellow. I hadn't any place to sit, so I just sat in the first compartment that looked comfortable enough and with at least one person there.
Hermione had had her eyes closed with a book open on her lap, but I knew she wasn't sleeping. She looked to be more at peace with herself than anything. I studied her curiously, wondering how someone could have such wildly bushy brown hair and cheeks like a doll. Granted, she wasn't near the prettiest girl I'd seen (which so happened to be me) but she still made me take a second look at her, what with her tan skin and fit frame.
"What are you staring at?" she asked curiously, her eyes still closed.
I blinked. "How do you do that?" I asked her.
"Do what?"
"Know that I'm staring at you when your eyes are closed."
The corners of her lips curled and she flipped a page in her book, her eyes finally opening to reveal rather ordinary brown eyes. "You've stared for an awful long time, that's why," she said, slightly annoyed and slightly teasing, "Who are you anyway?"
"Ginny Weasley," I told her. "Do you know Ron Weasley?" She shook her head and I stared at her with a puzzled expression on my face, "Well, he's my big brother. I have six, actually."
At this, she lifted one of her brown furrows. "Six older brothers?" she said incredulously but then proudly added that, "I'm an only child."
"Lucky," I mumbled quietly so she couldn't hear.
After that we'd simply talked about each other and ourselves. Somehow, we just clicked. Ginny Weasley, the attractive girl with enough brothers to scare off even the cockiest of players, and Hermione Granger, the baggy-clothed, bookworm who was better than everyone else at school and took full advantage of it, but had never even had her first date, were best friends. It sounds crazy, doesn't it?
Well, it doesn't matter to me anymore, because I still look up to Hermione since she's gotten me out of every jam I've ever been in and tells me what I can expect to appear in my coursework every year in school, as she's in the grade above me. Of course, this is all after much persistence and bugging by myself, but no matter.
Now you're probably wondering why I'm talking so much about Harry Potter. Well, I'm getting there diary, I am. Let's just start at the beginning of today, when I was so rudely awakened by a certain best friend of mine.
"Ginny!" Hermione said as she yanked my knitted blanket off of me. I was only wearing a tank top because the previous night had been very hot.
I groaned at her, rolling to one side and stuffing my pillow over my head. Hermione took that away form me, too, though. There was no way she was waking me up an hour early on a Saturday—oh no! Especially when she did this every Monday through Friday. Actually, I was kind of shocked, especially since she usually waits until lunchtime to wake me up on the weekends because I always stay out until curfew ruins my fun.
"Hermione Jean Granger you'd better have a good reason to wake me up before eleven on a Saturday!" I said annoyed.
"Love is blind. Friendship tries not to notice." ~ Anonymous
Hermione was hardly listening, as she was already opening the curtains and letting the beast that was those golden rays of sunlight burn holes through my sparklingly, dazzling brown eyes. This was the point in time at which I would usually begin to hear Lavender and Parvati groan in annoyance as well, but because Hermione was head girl and the head boy hadn't arrived to school yet, I was taking up residence in his dormitory. Usually, the head girl is in her seventh year, but Hogwarts had to make a few modifications last year.
Right now, everyone in the whole of the United Kingdom is in the middle of the second wizarding war against the returning You-Know-Who. I'd write down his name, but it gives everyone the creeps, including me. At the rate that people are dying, they needed more, and desperately. So it was decided for that year that all the seventh and sixth years would graduate early and work for the ministry of magic; no other options given. Thank Merlin Hermione was still a fifth year last year, and I a fourth.
There was a lot of protest from everyone, but we all knew that they desperately needed people to fight the war that was killing off all the great people of past generations. What can you argue against that? They needed people to fight, and Hogwarts had them.
And when the September 1st arrived once again? Hermione and I went to school as usual, only to find that for the first time in Hogwarts history that a sixth year was made the head girl. They also said that there was a mandatory dueling class added for all years, and that we'd have to double up on classes like Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"But I do have good reason, Ginevra Molly Weasley," she teased, grabbing me an outfit she knew I loved and snapping me out of my thoughts; the red shirt that hugs my curves that I bought at the thrift shop with some jeans. "The head boy is coming today, and early, which means we need to clean up your mess in here before he comes."
"I hate it when you have reason." I spring out of be and get dressed quickly before popping some gum into my mouth and start brushing my hair as Hermione makes the bed, something I'd never do here at Hogwarts, since the house elves take care of that. But this is house elf right supporting Hermione we're talking about, the same Hermione who'd wear her favorite stripped-shirt with suspenders.
She started stuffing my nail polishes into my makeup bag as I said, "You're not just going to kick me out of your luxurious home, are you? I could always sleep with you in your bed. Unless," I begin with a glint in my eyes, "the new head boy wants me sleeping with him in his bed."
"Ginny!" Hermione scolds, "Over my dead body will I let you into this room again." I fake pout and put down my brush, beginning to help Hermione get rid of all of my stuff. "But you can sleep in my bed, I suppose. Just don't sleep in your knickers anymore."
We both laugh and I suggest that we take our wands out and finish the rest of the cleaning quickly, so we do and soon all that's left to move are my clothes to Hermione's room. This, however, is also done quickly. Hermione gives me the two top draws of her dresser and half of the closet, which I can live with. However, I don't think that she liked the fact that I put all of my makeup on her perfectly cleared vanity, but of course, she didn't say anything.
"Rommies again," I said with a sigh of content, and then flop back onto Hermione's perfectly made bed. It all reminds me of our days rooming in the pits of the girl's side of the Gryffindor common room with two make up crazed gigglers. "It's just like old times."
Hermione snorted. "You're not the one cleaning up after your best friend's messes."
"I am not that messy!" I replied, sitting back up. "You're just a perfectionist."
"So what if I am?"
But before we can get into a good mock fight, there's a knock at the door that startles us both. Hermione grabs her black robe off of her seat and puts it on before rushing to open the door. Professor McGonagall is standing there in her usual poised posture with her usual spectacles and witch hat on.
"Good morning, Ms. Granger."
"Good morning Professor," Hermione instinctively replies in that obedient good-girl voice she uses with every adult she meets.
McGonagall looks over her shoulder and spots me, too. "And good morning to you as well, Ms. Weasley." I wave back with a smile. She smiles in return before returning back to Hermione.
"As you know, this year's head boy is arriving today. He's already here, so I'd like you, Ms. Granger, to go down and greet him and show him where all his classes shall be. Normally, I'd do this part myself, but I have a meeting to attend to." And after going over some details with Hermione, McGonagall is gone and I'm ready to meet Mr. head boy.
Since Hermione knows I wouldn't miss this in a million years she just gives me a look that tells me to get my little behind out the door so she can get a move on, and I do. She follows me down the halls of Hogwarts as we race to McGonagall's office outside of the Gryffindor common room.
As expected, I'm the one who opens the door. But I was not prepared for exactly what I was going to see. I expected some bookworm like Hermione with a nerdy hairstyle and that weak look to him, but what I got was far from what my imagination could conjure up. Standing there staring straight at me are a pair of emerald eyes I never thought I'd see again.
"Harry!" I screech in excitement, and before I know what I'm doing I've flown myself into him and have my arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace like I've know him forever, which I haven't, but it feels that way. But, to my dismay, he didn't really react. So, for the second time in 60 seconds, what I had expected again failed me. Wow, I'm really off my game today!
He sort of patted my back and then stepped back with a confused expression on his face. "I know people are pretty excited to see me because of the scar, but they usually don't hug me. That's a first," he jokes bitterly.
I feel my cheeks burn red from embarrassment and also because he was damn hot. I mean, I remember him looking good, but never this good. What with the way his hair looks like he just ran a mile, and how his lank figure gives him broad shoulders and… I realized I was staring at that point, as did he. His eyes swiveled down my body and up again in a split second, although he looked not as un phased as most boys who did this would be. Maybe all those chocolate frogs have caught up with my curves or something?
"No, I know you," I say pointedly, in an almost sing-songy voice. If a guy is cute, than forget it. "I'm Ginny Weasley, remember? Ron's—"
"Right," he cuts me off, and with a slight edge to his voice asks, "So, I'm guessing you're the head girl?"
It is at this point that I remember Hermione standing by the door and turn to look at her as I say, "No, that's my friend Hermione Granger. But I do…" Harry walks past me like I'm a fallen leaf and sticks out his hand to shake hers.
"Hey, I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you." But Hermione is barely able to take his hand. In fact, instead of the cool and collected Hermione she usually is, she looks almost like she can't breath or something as she stares back at Harry with her shaky hand bobbing up and down in a monotonous way.
Her lips go dry before she awkwardly sputters out, "Her-Hermione!" and lets his hand go only to clutch it with her other one as if his hand was a poison of some sorts.
He just smiles back and gets a good look at her and you could tell that it was making Hermione nervous somehow and suddenly he makes me second guess his words by saying, "Wait a minute, I know you!" with his eyes going wide and his whole face breaking into rays of sunlit joy.
Now, this sort of thing annoys me, because most likely, he doesn't know Hermione, but he does now me. Or maybe I was wrong all along and we weren't friend at all and he didn't care about me and…
"N–no you don't!" Hermione replies, stepping back. "You know Ginny. Ginny Weasley, you two meet at the burrow because Ron was your best friend and—"
Harry steps closer. "Well, maybe I do know her"—oh now he admits he knows me—"but I know you. You're Hermione Granger and your parents were dentists and you always read fairy tale books in the corner of the library!" Hermione looked back at him like he'd slapped her across the face.
"A true friend stabs you in the front." ~Oscar Wilde
This news, however, gives me a very opposing reaction. I go by my first instinct, and that had been to laugh my head off. This got me the fiercest glare Hermione could muster and another baffled look on Harry's face.
"Are, are you kidding me?" I said while gasping for air and holding my sides, "Hermione reading fairy tale books? She always says that that's just false hope for children!"
Harry's whips back around to Hermione. She looks so ashamed, like a small lamb who's eyes just got two times bigger, and who's face is brightened by a vibrant shade of pink gracing their skin. But then Hermione Granger doesn't do what she would do. She doesn't snap into overdrive and fight for herself like I've seen her do when Draco and his goons decide to pick on her. She turns around and runs back down the hall to the head's dorms. And I am left alone, feeling like a jerk because I'm still fighting off my laughter, and staring at Harry's crinkled face.
The rest I can write down later. All you need to know is that today, I wasn't who I was supposed to be. In fact, today I didn't even feel like Hermione Granger's best friend. Today I felt like an asshole.
Yours, Ginny
Author's Note: Wow. I loved this. It was an idea I had a month ago and left gathering cobwebs before I began to really focus on writing it. I like it, though. Ginny is great and very fun to write for in her perspective.
Ginny
